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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25238005">Sacrifice</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicPineapple/pseuds/ToxicPineapple'>ToxicPineapple</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Kaemaki Week 2020 [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crying, F/F, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Relationships, Rantaro and Maki are best friends I think</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:47:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,527</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25238005</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicPineapple/pseuds/ToxicPineapple</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“What are you talking about?” she presses, when Akamatsu doesn’t reply. “What’s wrong? All I said was that--”</p><p>“Was that you’d be a good sacrifice,” Akamatsu cuts her off, lifting her gaze, and when they make eye contact Harukawa sees past the determination, past the blazing fire; she sees the glossy shine of Akamatsu’s eyes, and a… a desperation, almost. A pain.</p><p>Harukawa doesn’t know what to say to that. She crosses her arms over her chest, frowning. It’s as though Amami and Toujou and Shiroga-- no, the mastermind-- aren’t even here, it’s just the two of them, just… this argument. “Someone has to do it,” Harukawa points out, standing up straighter, jutting out her chin a little bit. “You can’t just claim that I’m not what I am out of a place of sentimentality. If I don’t become the sacrifice alongside Toujou, who will?”</p><p>“Me,” Akamatsu says, immediately, and Harukawa blinks, as though she’s been slapped, feels her stomach drop.</p><p>---</p><p>In an alternate universe where Akamatsu Kaede survives, she sacrifices herself and goes on to season fifty four, while Harukawa Maki is left behind to deal with the reality of it.</p><p>---</p><p>Kaemaki week day five: Trust/Regret</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akamatsu Kaede/Harukawa Maki, Amami Rantaro/Tojo Kirumi (Background)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Kaemaki Week 2020 [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1821460</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sacrifice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>written for kaemaki week day five! the prompt was trust/regret</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“No, that’s wrong!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akamatsu’s voice echoes through the courtroom, and despite the obnoxious music that’s been blaring through the speakers through the whole trial, to Harukawa, it’s so silent that a pin could drop, and it would cause a similar effect.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a knot in the pit of her stomach, and she can feel her heart thrumming against her ribcage. She’s heard Akamatsu make that very objection countless times, through trial after trial, but even so, it’s hard for her to… comprehend, the words that just came out of her mouth. So Harukawa lifts her gaze and lets it settle on the pianist, feels her brow twist, and the roof of her mouth dry out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” she utters, and she finds that even her voice pierces the room like a dart, even though she barely hears herself over the pounding in her ears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her question seems to make Akamatsu doubt herself, but only a little bit. Akamatsu rests her hands on her podium, drumming painted nails on the hand-railing. There’s a crease in her brow and a frown on her face. But even from across the courtroom, Harukawa can see the steadfast determination in her plum eyes, and it makes Harukawa feel sick to her stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you talking about?” she presses, when Akamatsu doesn’t reply. “What’s wrong? All I said was that--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Was that you’d be a good sacrifice,” Akamatsu cuts her off, lifting her gaze, and when they make eye contact Harukawa sees past the determination, past the blazing fire; she sees the glossy shine of Akamatsu’s eyes, and a… a desperation, almost. A pain. “Because you’re a broken person. Because all you know how to do is hurt. But Harukawa-san, that’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>true,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Harukawa watches the way that Akamatsu grips the podium, her knuckles paling, her nails seeming to dig into her palms around the railing, “you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>a broken person. And even if you’ve hurt countless people, caused all kinds of harm, you,” she falters, then clears her throat before saying firmly, “you’ve only ever helped me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harukawa doesn’t know what to say to that. She crosses her arms over her chest, frowning. It’s as though Amami and Toujou and Shiroga-- no, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>mastermind-- </span>
  </em>
  <span>aren’t even here, it’s just the two of them, just… this argument. “Someone has to do it,” Harukawa points out, standing up straighter, jutting out her chin a little bit. “You can’t just claim that I’m not what I am out of a place of sentimentality. If I don’t become the sacrifice alongside Toujou, who will?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me,” Akamatsu says, immediately, and Harukawa blinks, as though she’s been slapped, feels her stomach drop. She opens and closes her mouth. It’s as though her words dried up in her throat the moment that Akamatsu proposed that. She doesn’t know how to reply.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She and Akamatsu </span>
  <em>
    <span>aren’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>the only ones in here, though, is the thing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You?” Toujou’s voice is… stricken, Harukawa thinks, and when she looks over she’s got an expression to match, all pale cheeks and wide, distressed eyes. “Akamatsu-san, what are you suggesting?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Akamatsu shifts a bit in her podium, lifting one of those hands from the railing to twirl around a strand of her hair. She laughs. “I mean, it’s kind of an obvious choice, isn’t it? All I’ve done from the very beginning has been hurting people. It was my failure way back in the beginning that got Saihara-kun and Iruma-san killed, if I’d shown up at the library to hear about his plan to kill the mastermind in the first place, then Iruma-san wouldn’t have had the opportunity to go down and kill him, y’know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t take the blame for that,” Amami says, quietly-- it’s the first thing he’s said since Shirogane revealed herself as the mastermind, Harukawa notes, vaguely, dimly-- and his eyes affix themselves to Akamatsu, for a moment, a crease appearing in his brow. “Iruma-san chose to kill Saihara-kun. You couldn’t have changed her mind. She would have found some other opportunity.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would she?” Akamatsu tugs on that strand of hair that she has wrapped around her finger, and Harukawa almost wants to leave her podium and cross the room, take both of Akamatsu’s hands in hers and rub her fingers, keep her from hurting herself, but she also feels frozen to her spot. It’s getting difficult to breathe. “Iruma-san didn’t have very strong resolve. Sure, Shirogane--” and Harukawa notes the lack of an honourific, “--admitted that she intentionally distracted me so that I wouldn’t meet up with Saihara-kun and hear what he had to say, but even so, y’know? I shouldn’t have forgotten.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is easy to talk about what you </span>
  <em>
    <span>should </span>
  </em>
  <span>have done, Akamatsu-san,” Toujou says thickly, and Harukawa supposes she’s talking about the case right after that, where Yumeno was killed by Yonaga, in Toujou’s own lab, no less, while Toujou was planning a murder of her own. “But I feel I should tell you that that is no way to live.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akamatsu smiles, softly. “You’re sacrificing yourself too, Toujou-san,” she murmurs, and Toujou averts her gaze, curls a hand into a fist, and coughs into it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is different,” she murmurs, “I am merely fulfilling my responsibility as a maid. You have done nothing but protect the rest of us since you came here. You even convinced me not to… do as I was planning, and betray the rest of you. I do not believe Harukawa-san is a broken person, or that she should sacrifice herself, either, but… I also do not believe that it should be you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-Well,” Shirogane interjects, donning a purple, braided wig and a pair of round glasses, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“s-someone’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>gotta do it, y-you all c-can’t just stand around t-talking about it for f-f-forever, y’know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shirogane has a point,” Akamatsu shrugs. “And you do too, Toujou-san, I… I guess I kind of have been trying to lead you all this time. It’s kinda silly, though, isn’t it? You’d think that if I was doing a good job at leading you guys, there’d be more than four of us left!” She lets out a laugh. Harukawa notes that she isn’t including Shirogane in this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...Harukawa supposes that she wouldn’t, either, but it still leaves an oddly bitter taste in her mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No matter how good you are at leading, you can’t control other people,” Amami remarks. Harukawa finds herself looking at him; if only because his expression is so difficult to read. “I doubt anybody else here could’ve saved the others.” And at that, Harukawa thinks of Momota, with his illness, who </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>have been saved, and Ouma, with his plan, who didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be saved. No, Amami is right, nobody here could’ve done any different. Akamatsu’s best was the best they could’ve gotten.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Harukawa doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> anybody else’s best.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akamatsu sighs, running a hand through her hair. “You guys really don’t agree with me, huh?” Her gaze settles on Harukawa, strangely, her eyes crinkling at the edges. “Even after you promised to trust me last time, you won’t trust me now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is different,” Harukawa hisses, and her voice sounds… bitter, to her own ears. She can’t bring herself to keep up the hostility, though, and after a moment she finds herself averting her gaze. “You’re talking about </span>
  <em>
    <span>sacrificing </span>
  </em>
  <span>yourself, when it shouldn’t even be you, it should be me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s an odd, sad smile on Akamatsu’s face. She spends a while just looking at Harukawa, her brows pinched together, but then her expression relaxes, and she rolls her shoulders. “Okay. Then I guess I’ll just have to convince all of you, to let me do it.” She leans forward on her podium, curling her fingers around the railing, and scans the room until her gaze falls on Amami.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(And in the end, they all </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> decide to trust her, because that’s what Akamatsu has always been good at, getting people to trust her. But the nausea that paralyses Harukawa as Toujou and Akamatsu are ushered off by Team Danganronpa executives doesn’t come from having seen Shirogane’s execution, but rather, the fact that it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> standing next to Amami right now, and not Akamatsu Kaede, the girl who led them through the game, who saved them time and time again, and who got them all to trust her one last time.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harukawa snatches a pillow off the end of the couch and pulls it into her chest, curling her arms tight around it. They could’ve afforded a high quality television with all their winnings from Danganronpa, but spending that money always leaves Harukawa feeling sick, so instead she’s watching the third trial of Akamatsu’s second killing game on Amami’s laptop, before the sun has even risen, while Amami sleeps in his room down the hall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He probably would’ve gotten up to watch it with her if she’d asked. He’s offered to be there with her through all the trials, if she wanted, because even though Amami has no interest in watching another killing game (he’s already been through two, after all) she’s been making a point of watching every single broadcasted episode. Not because she particularly wants to watch Toujou and Akamatsu suffer-- she doesn’t want that at </span>
  <em>
    <span>all-- </span>
  </em>
  <span>but she…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mmm. She…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She misses the sound of Akamatsu’s voice, the way it lilted and sang, the way it was so musical and so genuine and so bright except when she was actually singing. Harukawa misses Akamatsu’s smile, the way her eyes crinkled at the edges, she misses her laugh and her use of language, she misses the way Akamatsu would pump her fists and spout encouragements, she misses the way that the most arbitrary of statements felt… important, out of Akamatsu’s mouth. Felt real.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harukawa misses Akamatsu. And it’s… weird, it’s weird and a bit wrong to be watching her killing game for it, to be watching her </span>
  <em>
    <span>suffer-- </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Akamatsu isn’t even onscreen most of the time, normally they focus on the protagonist, the SHSL Jewelry Maker-- but every part of Harukawa aches in her absence. She hasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>felt</span>
  </em>
  <span> this way for another person in such a long time, not since… mmm. Not since her friend from the orphanage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Even now, Harukawa can’t get in cars without thinking about the sweet, sensitive girl she used to play house with. And it’s not like she and Akamatsu are </span>
  <em>
    <span>overtly </span>
  </em>
  <span>similar; they’re both sweet, sure, but Akamatsu has backbone, in a way that Harukawa’s friend didn’t, and… and, Harukawa doesn’t want to think about her friend anymore, actually. That’s a long time ago, anyway. No point in thinking about or yearning for things that aren’t a reality anymore. Harukawa got over her friend a long time ago. It’s fine.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But, yeah. Amami offered to be there through all the trials, at least, if only to support Harukawa. It’s a kind of support an assassin shouldn’t need, much less learn to rely on, (even if she wasn’t really an assassin to begin with,) but she’s accepted it for the past couple trials, if only because… mmm. It’s just been two much watching Akamatsu go through it all over again without Harukawa there in person to try to support her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Not that Harukawa has ever been very good at supporting people, but it’s one thing to know that and be there anyway; another thing not to have the option at all.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s just that, one of the two victims in this case was Toujou, as in Toujou Kirumi, former SHSL Maid, now one of the two SHSL ???s, as in Amami’s… well, Harukawa wouldn’t say girlfriend. They weren’t there long enough to have anything like that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But they were close. Anyone with a brain could’ve seen that they were close. And Amami is strong, he went through two killing games, he has composure and backbone and he’s the kind of person who Harukawa would trust to have her back in a life-or-death situation, but, she just can’t bring herself to put him through the pain of watching Toujou’s trial. Not for her. Not if he wouldn’t be, otherwise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harukawa sort of wishes he was here, anyway, though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t have a weak stomach. Corpses don’t make her feel nauseous. Even the corpses of people she knows. Harukawa’s been the one to create too many of those corpses to really feel upset by them. When she saw Toujou’s body, there was a sort of… dull, swooping kind of dread. The kind that comes up when you find the broken remains of one of your friend’s favourite things, or else the kind that comes up when you see a painting and you know, right away, that somebody you care about is going to hate it. It’s not the kind of thing that rattles you, personally, (except that it kind of is, because Toujou was deliberate and soft spoken and she took care of Momota when he was dying,) but it still makes you feel a bit unsteady and wrong, because you know how it’ll affect someone you love.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It, admittedly, isn’t an emotion that Harukawa is used to. But she felt it with Momota, and she felt it with Akamatsu, and now she feels it with Amami, despite his being an annoying, overly calm jerk who snores so loud Harukawa can hear it when she leaves her room to use the bathroom in the middle of the night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That swooping dread isn’t why Harukawa is upset right now, though. The corpses aren’t the problem. The problem is Akamatsu.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akamatsu and Toujou were put into this killing game, DRV4, without any memories of the previous one. They didn’t even remember their talents. But they remembered each </span>
  <em>
    <span>other, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and they subsequently stuck together throughout the earlier chapters. When Toujou’s body was discovered, Akamatsu was </span>
  <em>
    <span>crushed, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Harukawa could tell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And now, throughout the trial, there’s been an ashen look on Akamatsu’s face since it began, and she hasn’t said a word. Her knuckles are white on the podium, like they were back when she was trying to convince Harukawa to let her be the sacrifice, back then. She seems like she wants to cry, and it makes Harukawa want to cry. It’s so… idiotic, of her, to want to cry out of pure empathy, but Akamatsu has always… made her do idiotic things. Price of being an idiot herself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A loveable idiot, maybe. But still an idiot. And Harukawa hates feeling this way. She wishes she could just not care.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s when Akamatsu finally speaks up, her voice thick and her expression pained as she points out a piece of evidence that everyone else missed, that the couch cushion dips beside Harukawa, and she realises Amami has woken up, and sat himself down beside her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harukawa spares him a glance. His expression is kind, if a bit… difficult, to read. When he rests his arm on the couch behind her, Harukawa slowly shifts so that she’s leaning against his side, rather than the arm of the couch. Amami is unreasonably warm, and it’s comforting, in a way, but it’s not his warmth, not his comfort, that Harukawa is aching to feel around her right now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She can’t reject it, either way. She’s never been strong enough to be the first one out of embraces. No matter how much she’s always had to be strong.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Any guesses for the culprit, yet?” Amami asks, and Harukawa sighs a bit. She can always appreciate that he doesn’t… talk, about the things she does, or doesn’t do. That time he walked in on her with a knife in hand, half her hair littering the kitchen floor, he didn’t ask any questions other than, </span>
  <em>
    <span>can I do the other half? </span>
  </em>
  <span>and they didn’t talk about it until she brought it up. Momota or Akamatsu would’ve asked why she didn’t wake them to watch it with her, and then she’d have to ignore them or come up with a reason, anything other than the real one, and that wouldn’t… no. Amami knows who died. He can probably guess. He’s not the type to make Harukawa address her vulnerability. It’s not how he rolls.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Harukawa replies, eventually. She feels Amami’s hum against her cheek, but doesn’t say anything else, just. Keeps her gaze on the laptop screen. Listens to Akamatsu talk. She knows neither of them would ever speak while Akamatsu is. It’s the closest they have to being able to actually hear her speak.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Akamatsu is done, Amami says, “Well, I think it’s the diplomat. She’s seemed sketchy from day one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She didn’t have any motive to off the lion tamer,” Harukawa remarks. She hates that they do this, talk about Akamatsu’s suffering like it’s really just some television show. It’s like a dark comedy, for them, pretending to be like those super fans they detest so much. Acting like this is entertainment, and not just something that is horribly vile. Harukawa can’t decide who she hates more; the people who do it unironically, or herself, for mimicking them. “If it was the escape artist, I’d say maybe, but…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Amami pauses, listening to Akamatsu speak, “it was the escape artist’s mayo that was poisoned, right? Maybe it was a failed attempt.”</span>
  <span></span><br/>

  <span><br/>
</span>
  <em>
    <span>A failed attempt that killed your girlfriend, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Harukawa thinks, and doesn’t say. She doesn’t know what to say, actually. Objectively, it’s a good theory. Especially for someone who hasn’t even been watching the show. She just doesn’t want to think about it. Doesn’t want to think about Toujou being dead, and the person who killed her. Doesn’t want to think about Amami pretending to be okay, pretending like Toujou being dead doesn’t tear him to pieces just as much as the idea of Akamatsu being dead does to Harukawa, because it’s virtual reality anyway, it doesn’t matter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It does matter. Harukawa wishes she was brave enough to say it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instead, Harukawa says, as a nonstop debate starts, “Do you regret it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Regret what?” Amami asks, softly, in a tone that suggests he knows precisely what Harukawa is asking if he regrets.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not being the sacrifice. Letting them go.” Harukawa looks hard at the laptop screen, tries to burn a hole in Akamatsu’s forehead with her eyes. In the purplish lighting of the courtroom, Akamatsu’s eyes glow a gentle mauve. Even on camera, Harukawa can tell they’re a bit puffy from tears shed offscreen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amami hums. Waits for Akamatsu to finish a thought. “Yeah, I do,” he murmurs, eventually. Harukawa listens to the trial music while he thinks. Except when it’s Akamatsu’s voice cutting through the din, Harukawa doesn’t really process any of their words. “Even if going through two killing games was pretty rough, I’d have taken another one in a heartbeat if it meant I could spare her. Uh--” he pauses, stammers for a moment, “--I mean, both of them, of course both of them, I just--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t act like you’re saying something you’re not,” Harukawa says, a bit annoyed. Amami doesn’t speak again, so she continues. “I can only save one of them. If I could go back and time, I’d choose Akamatsu. You’d choose Toujou. I’m not gonna be mad for that.” She breathes out, closes her eyes. “Sometimes I wish we could trade places with both of them, anyway.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Amami chuckles, and there’s a note of relief in his voice, at which Harukawa opens her eyes just to roll them. “I… I regret a lot of things, from that killing game. Most of all letting that happen to her. Not letting it be me, instead.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harukawa gazes at the laptop screen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wonders if that’s their programming speaking, from those damn flashback lights. If Shirogane Tsumugi (not Shirogane Tsumugi, Shirogane Tsumugi didn’t do anything, apparently, even if Harukawa still hates her) made them this way, because they’re written to be expendable, the ones who sacrifice themselves. It would make sense.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even if that’s the case, though, Harukawa doesn’t care. She doesn’t mind playing along with Team Danganronpa, if it would mean that Akamatsu would be out of it. Maybe that’s… cowardly. Weak. Maybe Akamatsu would hate it, with every part of her. Harukawa doesn’t care.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Momota never told her that she’d regret trusting somebody this much. She almost hates him for it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harukawa just wishes it had been her. That’s all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s cold, today. Harukawa almost wishes she hadn’t cut her hair. That lasts about as long as it takes Amami to notice that she’s shivering, though, and then he’s draping a scarf around her neck, and she’s scoffing at him, but there’s a little begrudging smile pulling at her lips as she looks up at him, swatting his arm with a gloved hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe the smile is less about the scarf, though, and more about where they are.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Or, well. Not about where they are, but what being where they are represents. Everything around them is </span>
  <em>
    <span>loud, </span>
  </em>
  <span>with the sound of people-- familiar and unfamiliar-- chattering amongst themselves, the sounds of cameras clicking, and, most prominently, the sound of sirens. There are several ambulances off on their left, but also cop cars, absolutely swarming the place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If she’s being honest, Harukawa thinks it’s a bit stupid, that the police are here. They’ve been no help to the hundreds of kids who have gone through the killing game before they did, so showing up here all righteous is kind of… stupid. But whatever. They’ve already established that the police have no business sending her and Amami and all of their friends (Harukawa still hesitates to call any of them her friends, except Momota, and maybe Chabashira, for the way she talked Harukawa through a panic attack back after the third trial) back home, so Harukawa won’t acknowledge they’re here, she’ll just… scan the crowds for blonde. That’s all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s all she’s here to do, anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Know what the first thing you’re gonna say will be?” Amami asks, a smile on his face. It’s a different smile than he wears normally, more lopsided, more shaky, and maybe that’s why Harukawa spares him any scathing remarks or glances, why she just turns her gaze back to the crowds.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” she suggests, and hears him chuckling beside her. “It’s stupid to think stuff like that out ahead of time. You’ll never actually know until you get there, so there’s no point.” Harukawa sighs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But that’s not entirely true. She’s thought out thousands of things to say to Akamatsu, ranging from </span>
  <em>
    <span>you moron </span>
  </em>
  <span>to </span>
  <em>
    <span>I missed you so much </span>
  </em>
  <span>to </span>
  <em>
    <span>I hate you </span>
  </em>
  <span>to </span>
  <em>
    <span>I thought I’d never see you again. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She’s imagined screaming at her, imagined sobbing, imagined burrowing into her arms and never letting go. Harukawa has tried to suppress any thoughts of seeing Akamatsu again, both because a part of her didn’t believe it was actually going to happen, and because it was too painful dreaming about something that wasn’t yet a reality, but… it’s difficult to keep from it, sometimes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And now they’re here. “What about you?” she asks, looking at Amami again, sparing him another glance. His brow tilts a little bit, his lip curling. He seems to be thinking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” he says, eventually, and Harukawa would ordinarily call him stupid for it, but now she just nods. She knows he does. She’s seen it, in every moment that Amami has spent without Toujou beside him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe Harukawa… no, she… mmm. She’ll figure that out when Akamatsu gets here, </span>
  <em>
    <span>which, </span>
  </em>
  <span>by the way, she’s not even sure when that’s going to happen, or how, if the police or the paramedics will guide her out, or if she’ll just come running towards them, and it’s a bit disorienting because accordingly Harukawa doesn’t know what to look for, she just feels so out of her depth, and--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Harukawa-san?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A chill runs down Harukawa’s spine. It’s been so long since she’s heard that voice from anything other than a laptop speaker, she almost doesn’t believe it’s real.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That doesn’t stop her from flipping around, though, and looking up into a pair of warm, if startled, plum eyes. They’re so much vivid than they were in the simulation; even back when they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>both </span>
  </em>
  <span>in there, they never shone quite this way-- though maybe that’s because Akamatsu’s eyes are full of tears. Her hands are clasped over her mouth, and they shake somewhat, though whether that’s because she’s looking into Harukawa’s eyes right now, or because she just had to endure a second killing game, Harukawa couldn’t say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t matter, anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know you were going to be here, the authorities were saying things about taking me and Toujou-san to the hospital, but I saw Amami-kun’s hair and thought that maybe-- oh, your hair is so much shorter now, did you do that yourself?” Akamatsu’s hand shakes still when she reaches out, and for some reason Harukawa doesn’t even try to move, doesn’t even try to object when her trembling fingertips brush the messy ends of Harukawa’s now chin-length hair. “It looks really good, Harukawa-san, it’s really cute, you’d be cute in anything, of course, I just,” Akamatsu’s laugh is watery, and her eyes brim further with tears, and something in Harukawa snaps a bit, “it surprised me a little, I guess, I--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Harukawa says, and that’s all she says, before she surges forward and slips her arms around Akamatsu.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And when she imagined this moment, she was always collapsing into Akamatsu’s chest, letting herself be comforted, letting herself cry out all the aches and pains, all the yearning, all the fear. She was always indulging in that familiar, steady comfort that Akamatsu brings to her every interaction, regardless of circumstance. Even now, breathing in the generic shampoo scent of her hair, Harukawa can feel it, soothing her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it’s not Harukawa who needs to be held, right now. Akamatsu crumples against her, her arms slipping around Harukawa’s waist, her face pressing into Harukawa’s shoulder. She can immediately feel the warm moisture of Akamatsu’s tears against her shoulder, the way that Akamatsu trembles in her embrace. Even for someone like Akamatsu, steadfast and comforting and strong, two killing games, it’s just. It’s too much. Harukawa was silly, not to anticipate she’d need this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s here, though. She’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>here. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And Harukawa is crying a little too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re okay,” Harukawa murmurs, platitudes, generic statements, things that would be truths off Akamatsu’s tongue but are just words off her own, “you’re safe, now. You’re okay. I’ve…” she breathes in, breathes out. “I’ve got you, Akamatsu. You’re okay.” She presses her nose into Akamatsu’s hair, breathes in again, just. Soaks in that she’s here. “I won’t let anything hurt you anymore.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a quiet, shaky laugh, muffled by the fabric of Harukawa’s sweater, and then Akamatsu turns her head, looking into Harukawa’s eyes as tears stream down their cheeks. “I know,” Akamatsu says, and her voice is thick. “I trust you, Harukawa-san.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s the kind of trust Harukawa could never regret, no matter what. She presses a chaste kiss against Akamatsu’s forehead. “Good. You’re right to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akamatsu giggles, tearily, and Harukawa thinks that maybe things really are okay now. Maybe she can trust herself.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hee hee background amatoujou because i am weak</p><p>hooooooo i just think kaede maki and rantaro being the dream team is neat</p><p>anyway. ahem. leans into the microphone</p><p>they're lesbians harold</p></blockquote></div></div>
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